People like this had caused our misery, all across the United.
And it was only just now that I finally got it, that the truth finally struck me with the clarity of a lightning bolt against a dark sky: It wasn’t just how things were. It was how things were designed to be. By a handful of people. People like the President.
“Oh, yeah,” I said softly. “This guy has to die. And I’m just the housemaid to do it.”
“Excellent,” Blondie said.
85
CASSIE
I COULD KILL ONE OR two, maybe three dogs before one of them ripped my throat out. Those were bummer odds, but if this was my death day, then it was my death day. The Crazy House had done that for me—removed any expectation of a Happily Ever After. I really hoped Nate and Becca were okay, wherever they were. I even hoped Tim was okay, wherever he was, however far he had gotten.
For myself, I was going to die here and now, and I was cool with that.
I saw the almost imperceptible tightening of the alpha dog’s hindquarters. It was about to spring. I knew getting bitten would hurt. I just hoped I’d be dead before they started in on their feast. The dog leaped and I yanked the knife out of my boot.
Blam! The gunshot was deafeningly close. The large dog dropped out of midair and landed heavily not three feet away from me. Should I hunker down and be rescued, or throw myself into battle, armed only with a knife?
I jump-rolled out of my sleeping back and landed in a crouched ready position, ignoring the agony in my shoulder. Within seconds more shots were fired and several more big animals hit the ground. A straggly husky type lunged at me, and though it weighed less than half of what I did, it easily pinned me to the ground, standing on my chest, growling meanly.
I almost felt sorry for it as I adjusted the knife in my hand. But it was me or the animal, and I chose me. My hand went up in a hard, practiced move, and I stuck it right between the ribs. Still it lunged for my face, its hot breath mingling with mine, but in a second I saw the light leave its eyes. It collapsed slowly on me, a smelly, furry body, and I pushed it off, feeling like I might be sick.
Two more quick shots and the remaining pack members turned tail and raced off howling into the desert.
Looking up, I saw Tim lowering his rifle. It was a different rifle, one I hadn’t seen.
“I thought you left,” I said.
“Left? No. Exploring,” he said shortly. “Guess what? They have guns here!”
“I had a gun here,” I retorted. “What the hell did you do with it?”
“I was gonna clean ’em, but then I found better ones,” he said. Then he took a good look at me, pale from pain, splashed with blood from the dog at my side. He frowned. “How’s your shoulder?”
It took me a second to register the waves of numbing pain radiating out from yesterday’s injury. “Not great,” I admitted.
“Like, ‘I’m in pain but I’ll live,’ not great? Or ‘I’m probably gonna die,’ not great?” he asked.
I shrugged, which hurt, so I winced.
“Okay, well, look what I have here.” He knelt and upended his backpack. A hundred things fell out.
“We have more bandages,” he said, “and we have needle and thread.”
Needle and thread? I narrowed my eyes.
“The bleeding isn’t stopping,” he said, pointing at my shoulder. “You already look like you’re ready for the funeral pyre. You can’t lose any more blood. Not if you want to keep going.”
With me went unsaid.
“Take off your shirt,” he said, threading the needle.
Feeling somewhat sick, somewhat embarrassed, I did, revealing the lacy camisole underneath. I’d gotten it here, for once choosing something pretty instead of practical.
But Tim might as well be working on a sheep for all the acknowledgment he gave of me as a woman.
He poured alcohol on his hands, then swabbed the front and back holes that the antler had left in my body. I tried not to yelp at the cool, burning sensation.